


Oasis

by Nomette



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomette/pseuds/Nomette
Summary: The parties in Oasis are always insane, despite the omnics, despite the Global Crisis, despite the bodies stacked up like firewood all over the world. In Oasis, they think that McCree’s hat and revolver are charming, and his boots are quaint, and his stories of shootouts as a no good kid are sweet and rustic. It’s easy to be charming in Oasis, because everyone is so drunk and so rich and so ready to be charmed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inatrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inatrice/gifts).



> Done for the prompt "beach vacation/honeymoon."

The parties in Oasis are always insane, despite the omnics, despite the Global Crisis, despite the bodies stacked up like firewood all over the world. In Oasis, they think that Jesse’s hat and revolver are charming, and his boots are quaint, and his stories of shootouts as as no good kid are sweet and rustic. It’s easy to be charming in Oasis, because everyone is so drunk and so rich and so ready to be charmed.

He’s at a ritzy party tracking down a black marker dealer, whiskey in his hand and a woman’s hand on his ass, when he spots a particularly fancy omnic across the room, and has to swallow his surprise in a gulp of his drink. The whiskey goes down smoothly, but the smallest wrinkle appears on the face of the woman he’s been charming, and by the time he’s finished properly recapturing her attention the ‘omnic’ has vanished. No matter. If he caught a glimpse of Genji it was because Genji wanted to be seen, and if Genji is not speaking to him now it only means they’ll speak later. Jesse returns to his party.

The prediction comes true that night, when Jesse returns to his room, drunk off his ass and ready to collapse, and flops onto his bed, eyes closed.

“I know you’re there,” he drawls. When he opens his eyes, Genji has appeared on the edge of his bed, holding the Blackwatch datapad Jesse hid in the DVD player.

“Cowboy,” Genji says, putting the datapad down. “You are not as drunk as I thought.”

“Oh, I am. You’re just not as quiet as you think.” Poking Genji is an old game, one both of them enjoy. Genji rises from his chair and stalks lazily over to the bed. Jesse is drunk enough to openly admire the curve of Genji’s chassis, his thighs, the delicate menace in each of his steps. Jesse’s always had a weakness for shiny, dangerous things.

“Have you ever been married, Jesse?” Genji asks, lazily.

“Why, are you proposing?” Genji’s visor slides up, and he grins. The smile stretches at his scarred lips, turning the expression feral. It’s the sort of expression that is one hundred percent unadulterated trouble, the sort Jesse loves.

“Maybe,” Genji says.

 

The beat doesn’t drop until the mission is over, when Jesse goes to check out and is congratulated on his new husband and his upgrade to the honeymoon suite at the Kusanagi hotel.

“Thank you kindly,” Jesse tells the receptionist omnic. “I don’t suppose you could give me directions? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

The Kusanagi is a very new, very exclusive hotel, the kind where a room costs as much money as Jesse used to make in a year. Blackwatch ain’t exactly comin’ up in the world so much as it’s going sideways, but it has the occasional perks. Better than starving in a hole, anyway, and if the sheriff ever busts him it’ll be the UN and not some janky podunk town sheriff. Jesse McCree has reached the big-leagues.

He lets the friendly omnic receptionist check him in and ambles up to his suite, half tempted to take a detour to swipe some stuff from the other rooms. Places like this always make his palms itchy; old reflex from when he was stealing shit out of corner stores back in Dorado. He resists. A scan of his fingerprint- god, he does not like having his prints in the system, but it would have been weird to object- gets him into his suite.. King size bed, champagne, chocolate, fridge, television, kitchen, hot tub, city view, balcony. The works and then some. Everything but Genji.

Fuck it, Jesse thinks.  

He’s sitting in the hot tub drinking whiskey and texting Reyes when Genji comes in. Not through the door, naturally. Genji would never be caught using something as pedestrian as a door. Genji comes in through the window, despite the fact that they’re forty stories up; Jesse catches a glimpse via one of the wall mirrors.

“Sweetheart, bring me some champagne, would you,” he calls, and keeps texting. A beat, and then Genji walks in. There’s blood splashed across one of his thighs and champagne in the other. A long, silent moment, and Jesse realizes Genji is staring. He wishes the visor was off; it would be nice to see the look on Genji’s face, to know where his eyes are going.

“You look like a bear,” Genji says, recovering.

“Well, ain’t you a charmer,” Jesse says. Genji places the champagne bottle down on the counter, out of Jesse’s reach. “But seeing as you’re my darling husband who got us this place, I’m inclined to forgive you. You go out for a light jog, honey?”

“I was working,” Genji says. “Life is not just about sitting in hot tubs.”

“Well, someone’s got to work, and it might as well be someone else,” Jesse says lazily. He rises from the hot tub and pretends not to notice the way Genji goes still, then grabs the champagne and holds it out to Genji.

“You got a screw?”

“What?” Genji says. Jesse’s spent enough time studying the tilt of Genji’s visor to know where Genji was looking.

“Screw,” Jesse says lazily. “For the bottle, to open it.” He sees Genji shifting and doesn’t bother trying to dodge the blow; the floor is slippery, and he’d just embarrass himself. Instead, he hooks an arm around Genji’s waist, and both of them end up on the floor. Jesse’s hand is on Genji’s waist. The champagne fell into the hot tub, but didn’t break, so Jesse counts this as a win.

“Violent, aren’t you,” Jesse says, and runs two fingers through the cooling blood on Genji’s thigh.

“You are unmannerly,” Genji says, as if he didn’t just knock Jesse ass over teakettle.

“You married me, darlin’,” Jesse tells him. “What’s up?” It’s not the weirdest place he’s gotten a briefing.

“Put some clothes on,” Genji tells him, and retreats hastily from the room.

Jesse puts his pants on, humming, and rescues the champagne from the hot tub. Genji glances at him, tilts his head slightly and proceeds past him into the bathroom and closes the door. A few moments, and there’s the sound of the shower running. Genji’s managed to avoid getting any blood in their room. Jesse smiles and sprawls out on the bed.

Genji comes out a few minutes later, shiny and wet from the shower, looking like a car Jesse wants to drive.

“What’s up?” he asks. Genji lazily twirls a set of shuriken between his fingers like the show-off that he is, and activates something with the other hand. Bug blocker, looks like.

“There are some people in this hotel who are trafficking in omnics. Black market dealers. You are here to provide cover, and to shoot anyone who tries to shoot me.”

“Are you saying you don’t love me? My feelings are hurt.” Genji’s visor comes up, and he grins, then advances, wolfish, onto the bed.

“I did not say that,” he says. Jesse is treated to an actual kiss, the first one’s he enjoyed in ages. It’s one thing to kiss people for work, and another to have a hundred pounds of distilled murder in your lap. Genji’s lips are scarred, but Jesse doesn’t mind. Not remotely. There’s plenty of beautiful people in the world, but there’s only one Genji. He feels like he’s had a lot more than a few sips of whiskey. Genji pulls away.

“Cowboy,” Genji says, and smiles again. It’s a dangerous expression: bright and feral, beautiful as a bullet. “Don’t tell Reyes,” he says, and kisses Jesse again.

This, naturally, is when the door clicks open, and a set of omnics, apologizing profusely, peer through the door.

“There’s been a---”

“I’m busy,” Jesse says, not needing to fake the annoyance in his voice.

“This matter is---”

“Busy,” Jesse says, louder, doing his best to imitate Reyes’ voice. The omnics beep sadly, and then the door closes. Genji at least waits until the door is closed to start laughing, his shoulders rising and falling. Jesse reluctantly bumps him ahead by at least five points in their game of one-ups-manship.

“I ain’t one to hold grudges,” Jesse lies, “but I hope your engine stalls.”

Genji only laughs harder.

Jesse is sulky after Genji’s trick; he vanishes for a few hours, long enough that Genji is forced to go look for him. He finds Jesse at the artificial beach attached to the hotel, chatting with a set of beautiful teenagers. When Genji was still human, he would have loved such company, but he is not. He is what remains of a man, held together with steel and electronics.

Jesse spots him and waves enthusiastically. Robot fucker, Genji thinks; it is a thought that comes from the most caustic, bitter part of him, the part that used to urge him towards greater and greater transgressions against his family. He shoves it away. Jesse has a taste for dangerous things and heists and Genji is a weapon and a war chest all rolled up in one. If Genji were still human, were still a Shimada, were still living uncomfortably off blood-money in Hanamura, he would make it a game to see how long he could string Jesse along without sleeping with him.

But Genji is a thing now, as much as a person, and Jesse is waving to him. He advances, allows himself to be introduced as Jesse’s fiance. One of the girls starts to say something about omnics, then catches herself.

“I was hoping I could borrow my husband,” Genji says, and shamelessly swipes Jesse from them. Jesse doesn’t mind, or he doesn’t appear to mind. Part of Genji wants to dismiss him as stupid, a dumb hick who’s a decent shot. The other part knows better; he’s seen Jesse charm information out of professionals, steal information from thieves and kill seven men with six bullets. If Jesse wants to hide, he can.

It wouldn’t be so bad, to kiss him and mean it. Genji might even enjoy it. The fake sand crunches beneath his feet, and he wonders morosely if any of it has gotten into his joints. You never liked the beach anyway, his memory reminds him.

“Penny for your thoughts, partner?” Jesse says.  

“The people who are stealing omnics are going to try and steal me,” Genji says, and steers them towards the relative privacy of the gardens. Once there, he continues. “They have been tracking me. The program that they use overrides the omnic programming, makes them docile and obedient. Angela does not think it will work, but you have been enlisted as a precaution.” The bitterness in his voice at the last surprises even him; two years a robot, and it still blindsides him sometimes, how much he’s lost. He waits for Jesse to make some sort of obnoxious quip about how Genji is his, but Jesse steps back, allowing Genji his space.

“What do you need?” he asks. The list is long. Genji needs his body back, needs not to have this stupid crush on Jesse, needs to have hair and skin and fingers that can feel.  

“If there is some kind of electronic attack that disables my systems, we are counting on you to work manually. Otherwise, nothing. You are my cover.” Jesse grins wolfishly. He’s got a line of stubble coming in; Genji would like to know what it feels like. He thinks Jesse would let him. In the bath, Jesse’s fingers had lingered on his waist, his thigh.

“I’m nothing if not manually dextrous,” Jesse says, and wiggles his fingers at Genji. Despite everything Genji’s mood lifts. Jesse is fun, and one of the better monsters Genji has cohabited with over the years.

“Why don’t you show me,” he says, tilting his head towards one of the exits.

Genji beats Jesse impeccably at tennis, and compounds his victory by stealing Jesse’ hat and hanging it, unreachable, on top of the hotel flagpole.

 

The attack does not come that night, or the next night, or even the night after that. Genji and Jesse go the gardens, and to the beach, and to a conference optimistically titled “Rebuilding the world! Architecture in a Post-Crisis Economy.” Jesse doesn’t care about architecture, but he enjoys the free wine and the careless scientists and the practice at lying.

Genji’s rage cohabitates uneasily with the two of them, but each night it disperses a little, allows Genji to come a little bit closer. Jesse waits, unworried. Genji is a lot more animal than robot, whatever he might think; a skittish, predatory thing, like a mountain lion Jesse saw sneaking around the ruins of Santa Fe.

On the fourth night, Genji decides he wants to go out clubbing.

“You think scientists go for that kinda thing?” Jesse says lazily. He’s sprawled out on the bed, enjoying the rare moment of relaxation. Next week he’ll probably be in a foxhole; Reyes doesn’t like him getting used to things being fancy. If Jesse didn’t know better, he’d think Reyes was determined to be his dad. He grabs a cigarette from the side table and lights up.

“They are human as well,” Genji says idly. “Your contempt of science suits you badly.”

“Don’t get it, is all,” Jesse says with a shrug. “I’m a simple man. That sort of thing is too complicated for me.” Genji advances onto the bed and plops down unexpectedly next to Jesse like a cat. Jesse resists the urge to try and pet him.

“Liar,” Genji says idly. “I’ve seen your transcripts.” Jesse knew those would come back to bite him someday, but Reyes wanted him to get a degree, made him take a bunch of dumbass tests. Didn’t mean nothing.

“I don’t get why people want that,” Jesse clarifies. “Whole life spent inside, never going out and seeing anything.”

“What do you want to see, Jesse?” Genji asks. Jesse takes a drag on his cigarette and few moments to reflect.

“I reckon I’d like it if Overwatch quit giving out my files to anyone who asks,” he says. He wonders what else is in that file, whether Reyes thought it was worth writing down his mother’s name and her criminal record, whether Mercy knows about Jesse McCree, fifteen years old and still drugged out when they dragged him in front of the sheriff. Still. No use in parading his soft spots in front of Genji. He gets up, goes to the bathroom, steals a beer from the mini fridge. When he returns Genji’s on the phone.

“In fifteen minutes? Excellent. We will be there.” Jesse raises an eyebrow at him.

“We’re going to go see the city,” Genji says, and hold up a booklet. On the cover, a slim boat glides over the waters of the city. It is an apology of sorts.

The boat is a slim, beautiful thing with a good engine and smooth controls; Jesse’s bad mood vanishes the moment they get out onto the water. It’s late, the sky turned dark and starry, sunset long gone, warm light shining from the high towers, casting gold reflections on the water.  Jesse’s grown some since he was that fifteen year old kid dying of thirst down in Arizona, but he still remembers the first time he saw the ocean, how utterly astonished he was at the size of the sea.

“You have a boating permit,” Genji observes. He does. Reyes took him out one day and taught him how to steer, how to fix an engine, how to swim, how to radio for help. Everything but catching fish, and that because Jesse had been seventeen and stupid and would have lost his shit if he’d realized what Reyes was up to, taking him out to fish. He hadn’t.

“Reyes taught me how. Claimed it was for a mission, but I don’t use it none too often.”

“The water is a strange place for a cowboy. Perhaps you should be a pirate, instead.”

“Pirates vs. ninjas?” Jesse asks. Genji laughs, but does not offer a response. The silence stretches out comfortably between them, the beauty of Oasis a shared communion better than anything they could say. Jesse takes the boat through its paces, fast, slow, turns, drifts, and Genji sits on top of the cabin, unbothered by all the swerves.

At last, Jesse slows the boat down and drops anchor.  Genji is still atop the cabin, his feet swinging slowly back and forth. Jesse climbs up to join him. The two of them sit side by side, gazing out over the dark river and the golden lights. In the distance, another boat glides over the water, the faint hum of the engine growing steadily louder.

“I have not been swimming in a long time,” Genji comments, glancing out over the water. Since before whatever turned him into this, Jesse would guess. Genji’s files are much better guarded than Jesse’s; Overwatch are a bunch of tight-asses about security clearances. It hasn’t stopped Jesse from breaking into a few offices, but the bits of paper he has found are sparse. All he knows is that Genji was part of a serious gang, and it turned him into this on the way out.

“I’m sure Mercy could cook something up, if she hasn’t already.”

“Do you think this body floats?” Genji asks.

“I seen you scale a wall like it was nothing, Genji. You look so light a stiff breeze could blow you away.” Genji snorts and pushed his shoulder sideways, against Jesse’s.

“I am glad I am not as oversized as you. It makes people arrogant.”

“And you’re just a paragon of humility.”

“I am as humble as they come.” It’s Jesse’s turn to bump his shoulders against Genji’s. Genji slides up his visor and smirks at him. His eyes reflect the light like a cat’s, or something even more strange; they glow green, the pupils slit like an animal’s. Jesse turns towards him, drawn by the sense that he’s on the verge of some great, unspeakable secret, and then the radio comes on in a burst of static.

“Recall code 78-91; Activation 5302.” Jesse glances at the radio, then back at Genji. Genji’s eyes are glowing, shedding light like an internal fire. His shurikens rise and fall back into his fingers and Jesse realizes in a burst of panic that the omnic hijacking program has just been activated.

He hops down into the boat, grabs his gunbelt and his holster, regretting that he didn’t bring his grenades, and reflects that he might be better off jumping in the lake. Genji is fast, and Jesse ain’t too likely to beat him in close quarters. As he’s loading up his gun, Genji hops down from the roof, eyes still ablaze. There’s something moving around a him, a kind of shifting shadow that rises like fog.

“This body is mine,” he declares triumphantly. Jesse fires. The bullet goes hits- all of them do- and then fly off harmlessly, deflected upwards into the ether. Genji sheathes his sword. When he smiles, the light glints oddly off his teeth, making them look like fangs.

“Oh, cowboy. It is only me.”

“You’ll forgive me if I ain’t too trusting of that,” Jesse says.

“Darlin’,” Genji says, his accent a bad parody of Jesse’s. “You will see.”

 

When the other boat comes in, Jesse is waiting in the water on the other side. Genji, who is pretending to have been hijacked, is standing on the boat, his visor down. The sound of heavy boots, and two of the men climb on board.

“Unit designation and purpose, please,” one of the men instructs.

“Unit A7- 35, reporting for duty. I am an infiltration and assassination unit, fielded by Overwatch-” the rest of Genji’s answer is lost in the sound of water as Jesse begins to swim.

There are five men, two on the boat with Genji, and three on the boat that’s about to have Jesse. The key is to take them alive. Jesse swims over, grabs the side ladder, and waits.  

“Do you know any other languages?”

“竜神の剣を喰らえ,” Genji says, and a green light flashes like a beacon, shining out over the waters, an invitation to anyone looking to get their ass kicked. Step right up, Jesse thinks.

He has only a few moments after rising from the water to coordinate his shot, the targets flashing in his head like little skulls.

“Draw,” he says, and fires. He’ll have to thank Ana for her sleep darts, for insisting that he keep them in his pack. The men hit the deck. A shot rings out through the darkness, clipping Jesse’s shoulder. He staggers back and throws himself behind cover. A wild howl rises from the other boat, like a phantom train rushing through the night.  No second shot is fired. Jesse peeks out. Something is coiled in the darkness, moving through the air like smoke, visible only in pieces. A claw, a sinuous body, scales, sharp teeth. The image resolves. The dragon stops and turns to face him, and though the body is alien, Jesse feels, impossibly, that they have met before.

The light vanishes, and Jesse is alone in the dark with three kidnappers who are starting to wake up. He rushes to tie up the men, hurrying from body to body. The last one is twitching when Jesse reaches him, his hand creeping towards his gun, and has to be knocked into the deck a few times before Jesse can tie him up. Job finished, he hurries over to Genji.

Genji stands in the middle of the boat, blood smoking from his blade, and smiles. The green is gone from his eyes.

“They still alive?” Jesse asks.

“Yes, although they may regret it.”

“Do you know how to drive a boat?” Jesse asks. Genji begins to laugh.

It takes some time for Jesse to drive to shore with the bodies, call in the Op, fill out his report, and direct Overwatch back out to the other boat, and he’s exhausted by the time he makes it back to the hotel room. An initial scan reveals no sign of Genji. Jesse flops into bed and whacks his arm on the metal chassis of a concealed ninja.

“Rude,” Genji says irritably.

“You don’t even sleep,” Jesse says crossly. “What are you doing under here?”

“It is warm,” Genji says, as if that’s an answer. Jesse half expects him to scram, but he stays, even when Jesse nestles down under the same covers. More than that, he scoots closer, as if daring Jesse to touch him. Jesse’s eyes are closing, his body heavy with sleep, too tired for whatever game Genji is playing. Genji is warm from the covers, his body relaxed, held gently against Jesse’s as if he, too, is tired. Jesse yawns, rests his chin on Genji’s shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist, and falls asleep.

 

Genji is a little surprised and a little annoyed when he realizes that Jesse has fallen asleep; he had intended to sleep with him, but not like this. It must be the blood loss. Jesse was not hurt badly, but he was hurt, and Genji can concede that it is four in the morning. Sleep means very little to him; it is enough to mediate for a few hours and see Angela occasionally.

Jesse’s breathing is slow and even, his arm pressed pleasantly against Genji’s side, his breath stirring the back of Genji's neck. Strange, fragile idiot, who shot three people in three seconds, who was not bothered by Genji’s dragon and was too smart to ask about it. Genji will tell him someday, but not yet. For now it is enough to be held, to be safe, to fall into to the soft darkness with someone by his side, his dragon returned to him for the first time since he lost to Hanzo. This is mine, he thinks. My body, my dragon, my companion. This is worth keeping.

In the morning, Genji wakes to find Jesse still asleep, soft snores emanating from his mouth. He considers drawing something on Jesse’s face but finds that he does not have the patience. He wants Jesse to wake up. A few seconds divest them of the covers, and then Genji climbs onto Jesse’s legs, straddling him. Jesse jerks, reaching for his gun, then realizes Genji isn’t attacking him. His hair is mussed with sleep, his eyes half-open. Genji feels the first stirring of an awful tenderness and touches Jesse's face to make it go away.

“Wake up,” he says.

“Genji?” Jesse mumbles, and yawns widely, stretching.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

“Is there a reason you’re on top of me, or do you just like the view?” Jesse drawls. The view’s not bad. Jesse stripped off his wet clothing the night before, and his bare chest is exposed, along with his wide forearms and a trail of hair leading down below his waistband. Genji lazily traces a finger down the middle of Jesse’s chest, studiously ignoring the way Jesse’s hand is creeping up his leg. Jesse thinks Genji is going to run for it. Instead, he leans down and captures Jesse’s lower lip in his teeth, then gives him a kiss.

“This ain’t a trick?” Jesse asks when they break apart. “Jack Morrison ain’t about to come busting through that door and get a faceful?”

“I am insulted that you are thinking of another man at this time,” Genji tells him.

“Forgive me, darlin’,” Jesse says, grinning. “You were so beautiful I thought I was still dreaming.”

There are no more words after that.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- For asexualtabris. (I cannot write fluff to save my goddamn life, but I tried.)


End file.
